To Love a Phantom
by xStormyNightsx
Summary: Buying up the newly renovated Opera Populaire seemed like a good idea at first. But when a certain phantom threatens her for control, Jocelyn learns that the opera already has an owner; one who should have died centuries ago. Caught in a game of faith, Jocelyn finds herself trying to fix a damaged soul. Perhaps sleeping with said soul was not the best method? (Rated M for smut)
1. An Unfortunate Investment

This is what happens when you watch Phantom of the Opera at least twice every week. God I`m obsessed...

So I`ve done some research on the type of stories most people write for this fandom. There are quite a few enjoyable cases in which the oc is brought to the past. I thought it be fun to try it the other way around.

Warning: This story will contain strong language, and there will be a _lot_ of smut in later chapters.

I hope you all enjoy this story, and if you do please review; I`d love to hear your feedback.

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Jocelyn was a visionary.

At least that`s what she told herself when she forked over half her life savings to buy an opera house. She wasn`t an arts student, heck she majored in law. Nothing about her screamed music enthusiast, yet somehow she couldn`t resist. Perhaps a part of her, one hidden beneath layers of modern realism, longed to do something spectacular. And what could be more spectacular then owning an opera? Putting on shows after shows, amusing guests for a measly price of 150 per seat? Yes, that sounded fair. 150 dollars per seat. Add a few deals for the holidays and they`d be sure to sell.

At least she hoped they would.

With that thought in mind, Jocelyn walked down an isle; examining the dusty red seats surrounding the stage. Everything about the building was grand, from the gold plated statues to the heavy curtains. Once the layer of dust was removed; everything would surely shine. How could this not work out? People will most definitely flock to secure seats. Rich people hopefully. Gosh, had she really become so money-minded?

For a brief second Jocelyn felt a chill, a strange but noticeable temperature drop that took her by surprise. Instinctively she turned around, searching for a source she couldn't find. The building was pretty messed up; it was probably a draft. Speaking of which, there was so much to fix, so much to do if she was going to make this opera work, if she was going to make this opera popular. Perhaps that`ll be easy though, after all; the opera was called Opera Populaire.

x

"Doomed..." Jocelyn muttered under her breath, "I`m freakin` doomed."

"What was that mademoiselle?"

Being an American girl, Jocelyn still wasn`t used to the French title. Regardless she straightened up, replying with a: "Nothing." But it wasn`t nothing. She was doomed! Currently, Pierre and her were taking auditions. Jocelyn had hired Pierre last week with a simple job in mind; run the operas. She wasn`t an arts student, she wasn`t qualified; but Pierre was. At the moment she was rather impressed with Pierre. It must be pretty difficult for him to keep his cool with that banshee screeching the way she was. For gods sake, when Jocelyn began hosting these auditions, she thought the contenders would actually be talented. This is France after all! Where's the beauty? The romance? The talent?

Forget that, where are the ear plugs?

"That`s enough Miss Joanne." Pierre finally signaled for the singer to stop, and at that moment Jocelyn felt like giving him a raise.

The singer, Miss Joanne, gave a wide smile before doing a little curtsy and leaving.

"Please tell me it gets better." Jocelyn mumbled and Pierre chuckled in response.

"I would hope so." He gave a little sigh before turning his attention back up to the stage. The two of them were seated in the second aisle; giving them a decent view of the contenders. Speaking of which, another young woman walked up onto the stage. This one was dressed with a posh flare, her hair styled in a fantastic array of blonde curls, her skin creamy and flawless. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word. Quietly Jocelyn prayed she had a voice to match her looks.

"Good evening mamzelle, your name?" Pierre asked politely.

"Collette Thomas." She replied rather sweetly, and Jocelyn only felt herself getting more hopeful. A woman with such an attractive speaking voice must sing like an angel, right?

"Whenever you're ready." Pierre smiled, and the girl took a few steps back; sucking in a deep breath. With a simple hand gesture, she parted her lips and broke into song. Her voice was the exact definition of nails against chalkboard. Unfortunately her projection was great; making her unbearably loud. Even Pierre was forced to cover his ears as her screeching bounced off the walls. Instantly Pierre ordered her to stop, but her voice drowned out even his. It went on for a few more unbearable seconds when one of the stagehands rushed onto the stage, without a word he dashed over to the girl; tackling her down.

At first Jocelyn thought the stagehand was doing a public service; shutting up that little... demon! When suddenly she heard a loud crash, her eyes instantly drawn to a large lump of wood that now laid where the singer was a moment ago. She recognized it as one of the clouds; a prop that hung from the ceiling moments ago. It fell? How in the world did it fall? She had her stagehands inspect everything... perhaps the rope was too weak? Wait... forget the rope, that prop could have killed the singer! Her business would have been ruined before it even started!

"Miss Thomas!" Pierre was now running towards the stage, and obviously Jocelyn followed. The singer looked even paler then before as she took shaky, hesitant breaths, The stagehand that rescued her stood beside her, panting himself as he looked up at his managers.

"We`re fine." The stagehand began.

"Fine?" Miss Thomas suddenly found her breath as she glared daggers at Pierre, "I am not fine! I almost died. Died, you hear me? What type of opera are you imbeciles running? Your nuts if you think this is okay!"

"I`m certain it was an accident mamzelle." Pierre insisted, but the look the woman gave him proved she wasn`t buying it "One of the stagehands must`ve left a rope loose, we`ll make sure this never happens again."

"Again?" she scoffed "You really are crazy. Do you think I`m staying? There won`t be an again, because I`m leaving! You just lost yourself a priceless talent."

Awkwardly, Jocelyn took a few steps back, deciding it was best to let Pierre handle this. Her attention instead drifted up to the passages above the stage. The passages the stagehands would use to lower and raise props; to control the setting. Had someone really left one of the ropes loose? Was it an accident?

Of course it`s an accident. Who would want to kill this little singer? Yes, her voice was torturously bad, but that was no reason to kill her. Surely no one here was that insane. Not knowing what else to do, Jocelyn decided to investigate, heading backstage to the stairway that led up to those passages. After a few carefully placed steps, she managed to find her way to where the props were tied. A few of the clouds were still hanging in their original places, tied down perfectly well; the ropes tight and firm. The only exception being a post with loose rope hanging around it. Curiously, Jocelyn lifted up the rope, noticing it wasn`t as long as it should be. In fact, it was cut off! Only a little bit of rope was attached to the post, the rest of it had went down with the cloud. Someone cut the rope...?

No, of course not! It must`ve snapped. The rope itself must have been weak.

It was at that moment that Jocelyn felt a chill. The same chill she felt when she first entered her opera, the same chill that shook her to her core. Instinctively she glanced around, trying to find a source when her eyes landed on a figure. Down below by the costumes, stood a tall dark man; his body hidden beneath a black cloak as he stood with his back to her. One of the contestants perhaps? Maybe a stagehand then? But dressed like that...?

"You there!" Jocelyn called, and the man stiffened. Instead of turning to face her, he quickly made his way into the back halls and curiously Jocelyn decided to follow. Quickly she made her way down the stairs, following him into the dressing room before turning into the halls. She barely caught a glimpse of his dark cloak as he turned the corner. Once she caught up, he was somehow already halfway up a staircase. Quickening her pace, Jocelyn followed, trying to reach him as he turned down another hall and disappeared into one of the rooms.

"Hey stop! This area is off-limits-" she stopped to catch her breath as she stood at the rooms doorway. By the looks of it the room was an old dressing room; most of the furniture was old and dusty though. This area of the opera house was one she still had to renovate. The man was now standing in front of a large, dirty mirror; trapped in the room with no way out.

"God you gave me quite the walk." She mumbled before clearing her voice "Who are you? Did you have something to do with that rope?" The rope? Hadn`t she already decided it was an accident? This man couldn`t possibly have done anything to sabotage it. He was probably just a lost contender. But then... why run? "Are you gonna answer me?"

He stiffened again.

"This isn`t funny sir, I can have you arrested for trespassing. I am the owner, you know." Jocelyn was suddenly cut off as he turned around to face her. It was then that she laid eyes on his mask. She didn`t know why it scared her, why it made her breath hitch, why she couldn`t move. She didn`t know it then; but that mask was about to destroy her world. And the man behind it would build her a new one. She didn`t know anything then.

His strides were elegant but quick as he moved closer, his masked face inches away from her as he glared at her; his eyes burning with a strange hate.

"This is _my_ opera house." His voice was deep, dark; terrifying and alluring at the same time. "I am its _owner_."

Jocelyn couldn`t even find the sense to argue as he turned away to face the mirror, his cape sweeping behind him as he walked right through it. Did he just... Oh god he disappeared! He disappeared into the mirror? What the hell? How... How?!

Unable to move, Jocelyn just stared at the mirror with her jaw wide open.


	2. Of Course its Haunted

I hope you guys liked the little prologue :3

Now, onto the 'real' story!

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"Haunted." Jocelyn said the word with a certain scepticism, even though she saw it; she still couldn`t believe it. "You sold me a haunted opera house."

"Mamzelle Kain." The lady spoke tiredly, "I have no idea what you`re talking about."

It was around 6a.m., far too early for any real meeting, but Jocelyn had insisted. She hadn`t been able to sleep at all after witnessing that person... that thing disappear. Her mind had been riddled with questions, and so she arranged this meeting with the agent who had sold her the opera in the first place. Jocelyn figured if anyone had answers, it would be her.

And so here she was; in this woman's office. This woman who watched her with tired, old eyes. Eyes that hopefully held answers.

"A ghost... I can`t believe I`m saying this." Jocelyn bit her lower lip nervously, "I think I saw a ghost in the opera. Some sort of entity, a phantom. It disappeared before my eyes, it wore a mask and dark cloaks. Told me the opera belonged to it. Is that why the opera was for sale? Because it was haunted? Well screw that I want a refund."

"Mamzelle Kain please calm down." The old woman insisted before inhaling sharply, "A phantom you say?"

"Yes, and don`t tell me I`m crazy because I know what I saw." Jocelyn replied, "Just tell me you have answers."

"Do you like ghost stories mamzelle?" the old woman seemed to grow amused, her tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

Jocelyn didn`t answer.

"Well you see." She decided to continue, "It is my job to know the history behind the property I sell, and Opera Populaire was no different. Unlike most buildings though, _that_ place had a rather interesting history. Apparently a great disaster took place there once, a horrible phantom would haunt the building; killing as he pleased. One day he crashed a chandelier, setting the entire building on fire. There were also reports of him kidnapping some girl, others depicting him as some terrifying monster."

"You`re telling me a murderous, undead arsonist haunts my opera?"

"Possibly."

"Well no thank you!" Jocelyn rose up, her fist crashing down on the desk in an act of anger. The desk was surprisingly hard, and quickly she retracted her hand, mumbling an ow before clearing her throat. "You can have your opera back, and I`ll take my money back."

"It doesn`t work like that." The woman snorted, fully awake now, "We have contracts, and a very particular refund policy. I`m afraid you`re stuck with that opera. Besides, you don`t really believe in phantoms, do you?"

x

Jocelyn was asking herself that very question as she sat in the dressing room; a cross in one hand, and holy water in the other. The bible sat on the floor across from her; both of them facing the large mirror. She wasn`t really a religious person, as a matter of fact she had never touched a bible before this, much less a cross or holy water. But what could she say? She was desperate. This opera had to work, her life depended on it. She had invested way too much money, and she would lose it all if this opera ghost; this phantom remained.

"By the power of... god? Jesus? Um, yeah them! I command you to leave this place forever!" she did her best preacher impression, hoping it`d be more than enough. In all honesty, Jocelyn expected the phantom to appear, screaming in rage before turning into black smoke or the sorts. But to her surprise nothing happened. Perhaps that`s how it works? Perhaps he's already gone.

"Well that was easy." She whispered to no one in particular as she rose up, placing the holy items aside.

There was a shuffling of footsteps as she exited the room, and half-heartedly Jocelyn expected it to be the phantom. Instead it was Pierre. Well of course it was Pierre. The phantom, ghost, entity, whatever was gone now. She had just casted him out using the power of... Jesus?

"Mamzelle Kain." Pierre had his usual polite smile plastered on his face as he addressed her, "I have found you your lead soprano! Come with me."

Without argument Jocelyn followed, weaving her way through the intricate halls and stairs before making her way into the theatre. Quickly she followed the man to their usual seats in the second row, getting comfortable before turning her hopeful face up to the stage. Finally, talent!

"This is the owner, Jocelyn Kain." Pierre introduced me to a dark-skinned brunette, "If you could please sing again for her Miss Sylvie."

The girl gave a nervous nod before glancing around herself shyly. She seemed hesitant, anxious even, and Jocelyn liked that. With a small intake of breath, she parted her lips and sang out the first few lines from the aria. Even before the second word left her mouth, Jocelyn knew she was the one. The one that would make this opera famous. Her lead soprano.

Grinning, she turned to Pierre, who matched her smile before focusing on the singer again. This was perfect. Perhaps this was god answering her prayers. Rewarding her for the risk she took when she bought up this opera house. With that thought in mind, she settled her gaze back on the singer, expressing her excitement whenever she hit a high note. Just as she was singing her closing lines, Jocelyn noticed something from the corner of her eye. Turning on a simple whim, her eyes darted to a small movement on one of the balcony boxes. Standing in what should have been an empty box five was a man; dark cloak and white mask. He was just standing there, watching the singer; listening quietly. He was there. The ghost, the entity; the phantom.

"Pierre." Jocelyns voice was but a whisper as she shook her musical manager, gaining his attention before pointing up at the balcony.

The man looked confused for a few moments before shrugging. It was then that Jocelyn realized he had disappeared again. Could it have been her imagination? No, of course not; she wasn`t some little kid, she knew what she saw.

"Cast her, she`s great." Jocelyn instructed quietly before getting up, "If anyone else with real talent shows up, cast them too, you don`t need to check with me." The man merely nodded in response as Jocelyn headed off into the main halls, searching for the staircase that would lead her to the balcony level. After a bit of trial and error, she finally found the right staircase, finding herself at the door to box five. With a small turn of her hand, it opened.

As expected, no one was inside, the phantom- if he was ever here, was gone now. Feeling slightly disappointed, Jocelyn turned. Her movement was abruptly cut off though as she crashed into a hard wall. Wait, not a wall; a man. Glancing up, her eyes locked with the phantoms bluish-green ones. He was blocking her only exit, his expression grim as he stared her down. There was something predatory about him that made Jocelyn feel weak, scared, _excited_.

"You`re still here." She said with a hint of irritation.

"As I said earlier, this is my opera. I will not abandon it to the likes of you." The phantoms voice was rather quiet, but laced with passive aggressiveness, "But since you are here." He raised his hand so quickly, Jocelyn expected a slap; she even prepared herself for one, flinching back with her eyes closed. When nothing happened, she opened them again. His hand –which she noticed were covered in a black, leather gloves- was outstretched in front of her; his fingertips pressed against a letter. For a moment she didn`t move and neither did he. Then, ever so carefully Jocelyn gripped the letter, watching his expression cautiously before taking it from his hands. With that done, the phantom turned away; his cape whirling around him as he disappeared yet again.

Jocelyn stared at the place he was just moments ago with wide eyes; the letter in her hand the only tangible proof of him ever existing.

x

It was late. Very late.

And while Pierre and the rest of the crew had already left; Jocelyn remained. She was in her office on the top floor of the opera house. It, like most of the rooms, had been newly renovated. A fact which made it easier for Jocelyn to be comfortable as she sat at her desk; going over the heaps of paperwork that came with a building like this. She was signing off on one of the electric bills when her eyes flickered to the sealed letter that sat against her pen holder. For some reason she hadn`t opened it yet. Curious by nature, something about the letter made left her feeling unsettled. As if opening it would release some deadly curse on the entire opera. As if a phantom wasn`t curse enough.

Hesitantly Jocelyn stood up, ignoring the letter as she paced around her office. It was a fairly clean office considering it was just renovated. There were a few posters from various operas lining the red and gold painted walls. Walls that contrasted wonderfully with the maroon carpets. In the corner, by the door, stood a large vase, huge pink flowers protruding from it. There weren`t any windows, but the ceiling lamps made up for any lack of light. Against one of the walls stood a large but old-fashioned mirror; reflecting the rooms centerpieces, her desk and chair.

Coyly she paced over to the mirror, giving herself a critical once over. She looked tired. Her light brown eyes were dark from lack of sleep, her usual wavy black hair was an unruly mess at the moment. Her skin was tanned and toned; complimented by her white dress shirt and black slacks. She was dressed like a business woman. Her body had seen better days, but she was still in fairly good shape. Well, almost. Timidly she poked one of her own breasts, mumbling a simple; "Why couldn`t you be bigger?" before turning away.

Finally her gaze returned to the letter.

Goddamn curiosity.

With a heavy sigh she sat back in her desk, giving her chair a little whirl before plucking the letter up. Carefully she looked it over. The seal was red and shaped like a skull. For a moment she wondered what type of store would sell a seal like that before carefully opening it. The paper looked old, antique-like even as she brought it to eye level. Cautiously she began reading.

 _Mademoiselle Kain,_

 _My name, origin, intentions are no concern to you. You may simply refer to me as the opera ghost. A ghost that will show you no mercy if his orders are disobeyed. In light of these orders, allow me to explain what I expect of you. Box five will be left empty for my use at all times, if I dislike one of your casting choices I will make it known; and you_ _ **will**_ _fire said person. I do fancy myself an opera writer as well, and so I will grace you with my own work from time to time. You_ _ **will**_ _perform my work if requested. Speaking of work, I do expect a salary. 30,000 francs – or as you call it now, dollars, per year. If these orders are disobeyed, then dead contenders will be the least of your worries._

 _Now, on a brighter note, I thank you for your interest in the arts. For your interest in my opera house. I hope this investment will make both of our careers very successful. Enjoy your stay._

 _Your humble servant, OG._

Jocelyn crumpled up the letter before tossing it aside.

Oh no, no, no. This is not happening. If that deep-voiced phantom brat thinks he can take over her opera then he has another thing coming. But, just in case he wasn`t kidding about killing his contenders, she might as well do as he says. Not because she has too, but just because she`s a nice person. Totally not scared.

Oh god why`d she buy this opera?


	3. Mirror, Mirror

The real funs coming soon, I swear.

I hope you all enjoy this next chapter :D all feedback appreciated.

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Jocelyn opened her eyes slowly, her mind a blurry haze as she glanced at her surroundings. She was still in her office; her head resting against her desk, papers covered in her own drool. How embarrassing. Straightening up she shook her head, trying to grasp her senses. Despite how long she had been sleeping; she still felt exhausted, restless even. Her dreams seemed to have been haunted tonight. She could remember a voice, she could remember singing. As if someone was singing in her head all night long; even now the song was stuck within her mind. A simple, unfamiliar tune fronted with a deep, spectacular voice. A voice filled with intense emotion; intense pain; intense sadness.

If only someone had a voice like that. If she could find someone to sing like that. Her opera would be a huge success.

Her opera.

Perhaps she shouldn`t call it that. After all, it wasn`t her opera; but _his_. Anxiously, Jocelyn glanced at the opened letter that sat on her desk; proving the phantom wasn`t just some dream. If only it was a dream.

"Mademoiselle Kain." Pierres voice cut into the room, and slowly he opened the offices door, "I`ve finalized the casting! You should come meet them, they`re all... wait, have you been here all night?"

"Maybe. What time is it?"

"2p.m. madam." On that note Jocelyn stood up, walking over to him before heading out into the main halls. The man followed, "We are ready to begin rehearsals for Carmen."

"Fantastic." Jocelyn forced enthusiasm into her voice, "Is that an opera?"

"Yes, it is." Pierre sported an amused smile as she began leading him down the hall.

"Do you live around here Pierre?"

The man was silent for a moment before answering simply; "I do. Why do you ask?"

"All your life? Have you lived here all your life?"

"Yes, I grew up here, but why does it matter?"

"Do you know about this opera house? It`s history."

"Mademoiselle Kain please." Pierre stopped following, his movements coming to a halt, "I will gladly entertain your questions, but just tell me why you want to know?"

Jocelyn looked at him with a sense of uncertainty. The right thing to do would be to tell the truth. Her father always strived on honesty, reminding her again and again how important it was. But in this situation what good is honesty. She didn`t know this man well, heck she met him three days ago. Would he really believe her if she told him the place was haunted? No, he wouldn`t. And why should he? They`re complete strangers, he has no reason to trust her word. No reason to trust her.

In all honesty, she wouldn`t believe it herself if she hadn`t seen the ghost first-hand.

"I own the place, don`t I?" Jocelyn rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to follow as she made her way down the grand staircase, "It only makes sense that I should know everything about this place."

Pierre was silent for another moment before sighing, "Very true. Well let`s see, the building was opened when my great grand-father was alive. It was a huge success for a long time, but then some murders happened, it became a place of crime. It shut down shortly after."

"Murders?" Jocelyn faked surprise.

"A phantom, at least that`s what I`ve heard. Mum used to tell me stories at night, trying to scare me to sleep." He gave a short chuckle, "They were very creative stories. She described him as a love-torn, kindred spirit."

"Did she... know him?"

"No, no, of course not. The opera was closed down way before she was born. But her mother had told her stories about it, they were passed down the generations so to speak. Honestly everyone in this city, everyone with family going way back know the stories."

"So everyone knows the opera house is haunted?"

"Haunted? Heavens no madam. We just know that a few crimes were committed here a century ago. But you know people back in the old day, any strange thing is an act of god to them. A simple murder is taken as the doing of a ghost? Nonsense."

"Yeah, nonsense." Jocelyn exhaled sharply before trotting down the stairs, coming to a stop at the bottom. The entrance to the theatre was to her left. "So, you wanna show me that cast now?"

Pierre grinned, opening his mouth to speak when he was suddenly cut off.

"Mademoiselle!"

Turning, the pair locked gazes on a short, chubby man. He was dressed rather formally, in a dark suit, the black colour contrasting with his graying hair. His expression was cheerful as he moved to face them.

"Joseph, Joseph Monte." The man introduced himself kindly, extending his hand to Jocelyn politely. Not knowing what else to do, Jocelyn shook it. He had a firm handshake. "You must be the esteemed Miss Jocelyn Kain."

Esteemed?

"Yes, and um... can I help with you something?"

"Oh, of course, of course." The man smiled widely, "Ever heard of the Monte Ace Club?"

"A gentlemen's group, only the wealthiest and most powerful families in France are members." Pierre answered. Jocelyn for one had never heard of it, but considering Pierre's explanation, she nodded in understanding.

"Ah, glad to see we`re not completely disregarded." The man's smile only grew wider, if that was possible, "You see I own that club. As a matter of fact, my family has been hosting it since the Monte`s came to France. And believe it or not, it used to be a tradition for the club to host marvelous parties here in this very opera house. If you look into it, you`ll learn that there were grand, masquerade balls held here every Christmas. The Monte club funded them."

"Is that true Pierre?" Jocelyn glanced at him and he only shrugged.

"I assure you it is." Mister Monte insisted, "you can research it yourself later, but I swear you will only find it to be true."

"Well that`s all very nice, but I don`t understand what exactly you want me to do about it?" Jocelyn replied, trying her best to be polite.

"Well Christmas is right around the corner." Christmas was actually still a month away, but Jocelyn let him continue regardless, "I was hoping, now that the opera house has been re-opened, that we honor this tradition. I would like you to host a masquerade ball here for my club, of course I`ll provide all the funding. In return I`m sure you can make preparations by Christmas time, no?"

Jocelyn didn`t even take the time to think before answering; "I`m afraid that`s impossible."

There were far too many kinks to work out, this opera house wasn`t ready for any parties yet. Heck she hadn`t even hosted her first opera yet, how the hell was she supposed to pull off an upper-class party? Plus there`s a ghost wandering around. A damn ghost. The money was tempting, the idea fantastic, but the timing. The timing wasn`t right.

"But if you`d like, I`ll gladly host this part of yours next year." she suggested, "It`s just that this place isn`t ready for anything too big yet. A month isn`t enough time to prep it. I`m really sorry."

And just like that the man's smile disappeared, a confused frown taking its place; "come now there must be some way to convince you. This is a tradition, you know, I`m sure there`s some price we can agree on..."

"I`m sorry but-"

Suddenly the lights flickered, the room temperature dropping. While Pierre and the man showed their surprise, Jocelyn stayed neutral. Considering this was the fourth time, Jocelyn was used to it. Groaning she glanced around, searching for her obsessively annoying phantom.

"I see what you mean, this place clearly needs work..." the man mumbled quietly.

"It`s not that bad." Pierre shrugged.

"As I was saying, I don`t think we can-" and once again Jocelyn was interrupted as the lights flickered. This time though, she caught on. It seems the building wasn`t too fond of her declining the offer. It seemed as if _someone_ had a different plan in mind. Forcing a more thoughtful face, Jocelyn changed her tone; "You know what... I think you`re right. It is traditional, and I can tell it`s important. Perhaps if I double my efforts, and we can come to the right price."

Just like that, the mans smile returned.

x

 _Madamoiselle Kain,_

 _I am quite fond of the Monte Ace Club. I remember their parties well, for I have watched them play out from a distance before. I even attended once. They are a cherished part of the Opera Populaires history. A cherished part of my history. I would like you to make all the preparations necessary for such a ball, for I shall be attending._

 _Now then, onto the casting. At the moment I have few complaints. The lead alto, that man; Mousier Lucas Trentadue. He is weak. His vocals are pale in comparison to Miss Sylvie. There is a certain balance between voices that is necessary to reach musical perfection. You lack that. For now I shall tolerate Mister Trentadue. But, if we are to progress we will need to replace him as soon as possible._

 _Nothing disappoints me more than wasted talent. And if you keep that man, you are wasting Miss Sylvies talents. And I won`t allow that._

 _Oh, one other thing. You ask many questions in regards to my opera house. I appreciate your interest in this building, but do be cautious. Some secrets are best kept... secret._

 _OG._

Gulping, Jocelyn put the letter down. This stupid ghost was going to be the end of her. She actually liked Mister Trentadue, he sounded fantastic in her opinion. But the ghost had a point, compared to Miss Sylvie; he was nothing.

There was one thing that bothered her though.

The ghost knew she was asking questions. Was he watching her? Could he be watching her now? That creep. Suspiciously, Jocelyn glanced around. The door was locked, there were no windows; she was alone in her office. He couldn`t possibly be watching her now. Then again he was a ghost. How much did he know? Was he aware of the news paper she had in her hand right now? The content on the newspaper was extremely old; a printed clipping from ages ago. On it was an article, depicting all that happened in the early days of the Opera Populaire.

Nervously, Jocelyn began to read it. Not stopping until things began making sense.

Apparently back in the year 1870, in this very opera house; a murder was committed. Then another and another and another. The murderer was a man, one that hid within the opera house, only coming out to do his dark bidding. He sent letters... letters to his managers, instructing them on what to do. His downfall was a girl, a girl he fell in love with, one Miss Christine Daae. The man got away after burning down the opera house, somehow disappearing from within his secret hideout below the building.

That man, though no real name was given to him, was called the Phantom of the Opera.

That man was alive centuries ago. Even if he survived the fire, he should`ve died long ago. How the hell was he here? How the hell was he still breathing? Unless he`s 150 years old, he shouldn`t be here. Unless... unless he really is dead. Unless he really is a ghost.

For a moment, Jocelyn felt real fear as she placed the newspaper down.

No, wait. Not fear, not terror, not dread. This feeling, this feeling wasn`t fear, it was sadness.

How tragic. This man, this spirit was still here. Was he trapped? Caged to his place of torment? His downfall his own heart? A murderer yes, but what type of man could he have been? Why would anyone spend their lives inside the basements of an opera house? And even now, even after death he was still hiding here. Tragic, simply tragic.

Standing up, Jocelyn allowed her eyes to glaze over the newspaper.

The man, when he was alive, hid underneath the opera house. The newspaper article mentioned something about a mirror, how a passage behind it led the phantoms pursuers to his lair. A mirror, hmm?

Jocelyn had an idea.

Calmly, the girl placed the paper down, heading towards her office door before pulling it open. Once again she made her way down the hall, this time turning the corner to where the dressing rooms were. She didn`t stop until she came face to face with a large, dirty mirror. It was the same room the phantom had disappeared in earlier; the same room that was yet to be renovated.

Hesitantly Jocelyn extended her hands, giving the sides of the mirror a hard tug.

It didn`t budge.

For a moment she was frozen. Then sanity returned to her mind. Slowly she withdrew, backing up anxiously as she looked around herself. What the hell was wrong with her? She just read some crazy shit about a murderous ghost and what does she do? She goes looking for him? Honestly she couldn`t tell what was more stupid. The attempt to find him, or the fact that she actually believed all that nonsense about secret passages and evil lairs.

Besides, what would she do if she found him? Say 'Oh, hi, don`t mind me, I`m just snooping around. Thought we could have a little chat, how about some tea? I hear you`ve killed a few people, gosh there must be a story there, please do tell?'

Nonsense.

The ghost would probably just kill her for intruding.

Wait, would he? She did run his opera after all, the only reason it`s open is because she bought it. If he killed her it would be closed again... so he would spare her right? Then again he was a cold-blooded murderer, god knows what he`d do. A spirit hidden behind a mask. A mask... what type of face was he hiding behind it? The article mentioned disfigurements, but to what extent? Curiosity was practically eating her alive as she stared at the mirror.

And then there was this connection. This strange, intriguing pull she felt. As if something powerful was begging her to come closer, as if some unseen god was taunting her to take a chance. Jocelyn didn`t know it then, but that was fate calling her.

Gritting her teeth, Jocelyn bent down to pick up an old, dusty candle stand. It was lying flatly beside the dresser. Just another forgotten treasure. For a second the girl considered her choices, going over her decision multiple times before giving in. Tightening her grip on the candle stand, Jocelyn pulled it back before slamming it into the mirror. The glass, weakened from the decades, shattered with ease; revealing a dark, daunting hallway.

The candle stand dropped to the ground with a thud, and Jocelyn took a step forward.

Fate was calling, and she was ready to answer.


	4. Into the Dungeon

Every step Jocelyn made was careful; calculated even, as if any wrong movement could blow the whole place up. Though she strongly doubted that. Still, something kept her on her toes, something kept her cautious. Besides; better safe than sorry, right?

The atmosphere down here was especially creepy though. There were unlit torches marking the halls; each torch held by a stone arm. Whoever decorated this place had terrible taste. Still, Jocelyn tried to focus as she made her way down into the darkness. After a while she pulled her phone out; illuminating the area as she took another step forward. This one though made a whirring noise, and instinctively Jocelyn leapt aside just as the ground beneath her opened. Breathlessly she sat up, staring wide eyed at the trap that almost killed her.

She stared until her heart beat calmed.

Now, with renewed caution, Jocelyn continued to move through the corridor. Finally she reached its end; revealing a channel of water. For a second she considered turning back, but the curiosity was practically killing her. Despite how stupid it felt, Jocelyn placed one foot into the water, then another as she threaded through the murky liquid. It looked disgusting; but determination prevailed.

After what felt like ages, Jocelyn finally came to the end of the channel. Slowly she moved her phone around, staring with disbelief at the room before her. Giant stone statues decorated the entrance that lead to a large island within the water. The island was furnished with old but grand furniture, the entire area surrounded by huge unlit candle-stands.

Subconsciously she reached out, her finger trailing the dust covered stands.

Was this what the newspaper was talking about? The secret lair he disappeared from? For some reason Jocelyn had imagined a small, dark, dungeon-like room to be his secret lair. Never something so extravagant and grand. Just the thought of how this place would have looked back in the day filled her with excitement. The candles all lit; illuminating the polished and shimmering furniture. A strange man sitting at the organ; fingers dancing away as he filled the entire room with music.

Jocelyn could practically picture it. As a matter of fact she could practically imagine the man, gloves, cape, mask and all. He seemed so real, as if he was really here.

" _What are you doing here_?!" the man snapped, his expression noticeably darkening.

Wait. That wasn`t her imagination, was it? The phantom, he`s here. He`s actually here.

Well shit.

Quickly the girl opened her mouth to speak, but for some strange reason no sound came out. Confused, she tried to force the words out, but all she heard was a breathless squeal. Air stopped reaching her lungs as a strange pressure applied itself to her throat. She couldn`t help the tears in her eyes as she blinked ahead at the Phantom. His gloved hands were tightly wrapped around her throat, a sadistic smirk playing on his face as he raised her up to eye-level. Desperately, Jocelyn clawed at his hands, her body squirming and struggling as she tried to plead, to beg, to do anything and everything that could get her out of this situation.

Her panic doubled as she saw spots blotting out her vision, her throat was burning for the air it was being denied. In her last moments Jocelyn felt anger, frustration, and regret. Why? Why did she have to be so stupid? Why did she go through the mirror? She knew this was coming. She knew he`d be down there. What did she expect him to do when he found her? Offer her tea and chat about the weather?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was actions like these that she detested in horror films. What was wrong with those characters? Why would they always choose the dark, isolated paths? They were idiots, she always thought that. But now, here she was. She had done exactly what they would do. Stupidly stroll into the arms of a killer. She faintly remembered Law class; the teacher had spent an entire day talking about the consequences of decisions. How you should always rethink your decisions, not once, not twice, not thrice, but at least ten times. And even then, think again.

Well, so much for that.

She would die here, alone in a freaking basement. Murdered at the hand of a ghost. Heck, she wouldn`t even get any justice for her death. It`s not like you can arrest a ghost. No one would even find her body.

In one final, desperate attempt for her life, she scratched at the exposed side of his face, digging her nails in. Growling, the Phantom threw her aside, his hand coming to wrap around his own face. The feeling of air re-entering her lungs was foreign, the scraping, burning sensation painfully unbearable. Struggling onto her knees, Jocelyn was barely able to make out the phantom charging at her; his expression screaming murder.

"Wa-wait!" she barely choked the words out, the will to live overpowering the agony of speaking. "Please! Listen..."

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" he said each word slowly, malice emphasizing each syllable. On the bright side he slowed his charge down to a more menacing walk. Each step promising her a horrible fate.

The girl raised her finger, pleading for a moment to catch her breath. Surprisingly he came to a stop in front of her trembling form, somehow finding the decency to let her speak.

"You need me to run... to run the opera," she muttered, feeling intense relief as his gaze turned thoughtful. "I`m sorry... for snooping."

He was silent now. A fact that scared Jocelyn more than she was willing to admit.

"Is this where you lived?" she asked cautiously, her body adjusting to the struggle that was speaking. Her natural instinct was to fill silence with conversation. "Your secret lair?"

"Prison. The word you are looking for is prison."

It didn`t look like a prison.

"There`s a story there." She mumbled, watching him carefully; ready to leap if he attacked again.

In response to her question he gave a weary, almost unnoticeable nod, turning away as he walked towards the organ. His fingers elegantly brushed against the keys, a hint of a smile gracing his lips before he turned to a shattered mirror. The smile faded instantly, giving way to something darker as he continued to pace about.

"It`s where I hid from the world." He spoke softly this time, an uncharacteristic twist from his usual deep, smooth voice. "Home to my best, and _worst_ memories."

The gears in Jocelyn's mind began to churn as she watched him. Despite the edge she felt from her near death experience, she slowly became a bit more comfortable. She would be safe now. She had leverage after all, and he knew it too. Knew that he needed her to keep his opera house open. Still, she was surprised that she was still here. After sparing her she expected him to growl out an order. Something along the lines of 'get out and never return.' Yet he was talking to her. Actually having a conversation of sorts.

Why?

"Have you received my latest letter?" Jocelyn snapped out of her thoughts at that question, nodding a little too quickly.

"It be wise to follow my instructions," he smirked again, handsome eyes lighting up at a memory, "those who disobey me don`t meet happy ends."

No they do not. She faintly remembered what he had done. Murdering away with a grand finale of burning most of the building. No doubt putting the original owners out of business for good.

"I`m sure you understand?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes... sir?" was she supposed to call him sir? Address him formally or something? Better safe than sorry.

"I believe it is _Carmen_ that you will be performing for the opening?" he mused, his attention back on the broken mirror.

He was doing it again. Continuing the conversation, talking about something so casual. Why? Why does a ghost care about talking to her? He should`ve shooed her off after sparing her, yet he didn`t. Conversing for the sake of conversing. Acting as if they were nothing more than normal acquaintances.

"Yeah, Carmen." She confirmed him, "That`s an opera."

"I am aware..."

Jocelyn mentally scolded herself, reminding herself yet again that not everyone was as ignorant as she.

"Do you... do you play?" she asked uncertainly, her attention on the organ.

"Why else would a man keep an instrument so massive? Merely for decoration?" did he just roll his eyes?

She didn`t reply to this and once again silence had settled in between them. The Phantom suddenly broke that silence by clearing his throat, eyes flickering around the room; searching for something to talk about. Anything to talk about.

It was at that moment that Jocelyn realized something. Realized why he kept up the small talk, why he let her stay, why he chose to converse with her. Behind his default grim expression, there was something else. Something she recognized all too well.

Loneliness.

That was it, wasn`t it? He was lonely. God knows how many decades he had spent here alone. Most of his life probably took place down here. Not to mention his afterlife. The solitude that came with being someone like him was killing him, wasn`t it? That`s why he was talking to her, because he knew how rare it was for someone to listen. How many nights had he spent here, the only audible voice being his own? The silence a constant reminder of his isolation.

Humans were social creatures after all.

"Well... I better get back to running your opera house." She spoke before he got a chance, ending the conversation he longed to continue. Glancing away he gave a slight nod, listening as her footsteps faded into the water. Despite understanding his motivation to talk, Jocelyn didn`t want to humour it. She wanted to leave, to get back to the normal world above, to assess what she had seen, to organize the new bits of information in her mind. And then, when she had a plan in place she would return.

X

Once the girl was out of earshot, Erik released a heavy sigh.

What was that? He must`ve looked so pathetic, grasping at straws just to talk to her. Just to talk to another _person_. It felt good though. Even for a few minutes it felt good to be in someone else's company. Still, he shouldn`t let it shake him too much. He had other things to worry about. For example the success of his opera house. Carmen wasn`t exactly the best choice, but he wasn`t that petty to care. On the other hand, their cast needed work. That Trentadue fellow had to go, he sounded god-awful at rehearsals. The Pierre fellow also was an issue, his taste was too simple, too safe. He needed to become more daring, more extravagant with his directing choices. Still, he was willing to give him a second chance. He`d write to Jocelyn about it; his suggestions for Pierre.

The simple thought of the girl sent him back a little. His mind flickering to their conversation yet again. She seemed kind, thoughtful, but most importantly submissive. She would do as he wished and that made her valuable. An obedient manager was far better than a disobedient one.

And no doubt rare.

X

Jocelyn closed all her windows before snuggling into her bed sheets, inhaling sharply as she stared at her plain ceiling. Due to her new business, she had been forced to move to France. Most people would be absolutely thrilled to do such a thing. Who wouldn`t want to live in a country so incredible? And at first she was one of those people, but with time the homesickness had begun to settle. It didn`t her bother too much, and she easily pushed it to the back of her mind, deciding to focus on more pressing matters.

For example a particular Phantom hanging around the buildings basement.

What was she supposed to do about him? Let him be? Work with him to make the opera successful? Perhaps that was for the best, after all they both had the same goals. Still, her logical side argued. Was she going to work with a murderer? Was she okay with that? Perhaps it's time to ring up the local church?

Grumbling, the girl rolled onto her side, pulling the sheets closer.

He didn`t seem too bad.

Well, without counting the almost-choking-her-to-death bit; he wasn`t so bad. Just a lonely, abused, little soul. If anything, she could probably help him.

Yes!

That`s exactly what she`d do: help him. Tomorrow she would talk to him. Tell him it didn`t have to be this way, he didn`t have to threaten her to get what he wanted. Instead she`d offer a partnership, he could run the opera behind the scenes to his heart's content, and in return won`t harm a soul. If anything it`s a win-win for both of them. She wouldn`t have to worry about anyone dying.

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If you haven`t already :3 Please review


	5. Let Me Help You

Jocelyn felt kind of petty as she sat in box five, her feet perched on the balcony's edge, her back comfortable against her chair. She held a bowl of popcorn in her lap, munching away idly as she watched Pierre lead the singers in rehearsal. There wasn`t anything of grave importance to be done, and so she decided to slack off. Some owner she was turning out to be. But hey, to be fair, someone had to test the popcorn they`d be serving when the doors open to the public. Speaking of which, their first live show was to be held tonight. You`d think such an event would keep a person busy, but nope, there wasn`t a thing to do.

The popcorn itself wasn`t too bad. She had bought an actual machine and integrated it into the snack bar she had installed in the lobby. Renovations were surely making the place seem a lot more modern. Still, if all went well, maybe she`d buy a few more machines. Maybe she`d get different flavours of popcorn too. Caramel, white cheddar, jalapeno. Perhaps she`ll ditch the whole opera thing and open up a popcorn store.

Jocelyn smirked at the idea before turning her attention to the stage. Pierre seemed a little irritated now. His handsome features twisted into a mix of annoyance and impatience. Now that she thought about it, she remembered him yelling a bit at the cast. Seems the man was pretty passionate about the quality of the show. Much like someone else she knew.

And for the fifth time that day, Jocelyn found her mind yet again flooding with thoughts of her phantom. Sad but beautiful eyes finding her in the darkness, brooding but sexy lips responding to her every word. And not to mention his dress-preference. What could she say? She was a sucker for a grand, elegant cape. The white mask only made it better, adding a layer of mystery most girls would swoon for. Its funny really, how some women long for an exceptional man. Someone better then any other, someone different, someone powerful.

Too bad this _mans_ a murdering arsonist who`s unfortunately a little dead.

Geez, when did life get so complicated?

Jocelyn idly popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth, munching away rather loudly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Instinctively she leapt up, almost spilling her popcorn before whirling her head around; half expecting the phantom. To her disappointment it was only Ms. Sylvie. Her soprano. Here? Shouldn`t she be rehearsing down there with Pierre?

"Ms. Sylvie?" shoot, what was her first name? "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh… I… um, well you see… I" she was hesitating, stuttering even. The look in the brunettes eyes was one of confusion.

"Is everything okay?"

"Well… no." she sighed.

Jocelyn waited patiently for the girl to relax, her expression encouraging.

"I…" the girl took a deep breath, her gaze lingering on the ground now, "I don't live around here, I`m from a different city actually… I only came for the position. So, Pierre knows I don`t really have a place nearby, so… he let me stay here until I get settled somewhere. He said it would be okay if I take up residence in the old ballet dorms. Those have been renovated so I guess they`re not old anymore… Anyways I was sleeping last night… well I was trying too, but there was this voice… this singing in my head."

Jocelyn only blinked at her.

"So, um…" the girl looked a little embarrassed as she continued, "I told Pierre and he told me to tell you. He`s worried it could be a security issue, if there is actually someone sneaking into the building at night. He said he didn`t give anyone else but me permission to be here after hours… he`s concerned someone`s trespassing."

Jocelyn half-heartedly smirked. She knew exactly who the 'trespasser' was.

"Was the voice any good?" she asked rather jokingly.

"Oh? Um… well I suppose." The girl smiled softly now, "Amazing really. A little too emotional for me but no doubt amazing. Almost hypnotic."

"I`ll be sure to look into it." Jocelyn concluded, earning a weary nod from the girl. "Oh, before you go. I never caught your first name?"

"Meera."

X

Jocelyn spent a good ten minutes pacing outside the doors leading to box five. The show was about to begin shortly. The first show in a century. She was certain _he_ would attend, he obviously cared about the operas success. So it only made sense that he would be in there, seated all lavishly as he watched the performance. Seated behind these doors. After a few more minutes of pacing, Jocelyn released a heavy sigh, grumbling as she pushed her way in.

As expected he was sitting there, his gaze hard and focused as he watched the performance analytically. Anyone could sense the gears churning in his head, each idea and thought a critical criticism. He saw things no one else did. Analyzed music in ways no one could. That concentration though was abruptly broken as he noted her presence.

"Miss Kain." He sounded a little wearier as he spoke her name, as if he was disappointed by her interruption. She didn`t blame him.

"Mister The Phantom." She replied rather cheekily, realizing she actually didn`t know his name. "Enjoying the show?"

"Came all this way just for a review? I assure you madam I would`ve left you a letter soon enough. Preferably _after_ the show."

Well his mood was off.

"I never caught your name." she mumbled the sentence, her words barely illegible. But the Phantom had good ears.

"You can call me what you like. Opera Ghost was the usual title."

"I hear you`re disfigured."

He twitched at that, and Jocelyn couldn`t help but regret her bluntness.

"And where, if I may ask _madam_ , have you heard that?"

"A little article." She replied a little more humbly.

"Snooping into other people's business isn`t ladylike."

"Can I…. be honest with you?"

"You`re being plenty honest." He said it in a rather challenging tone, "I`d recommend you stop getting so comfortable."

Jocelyn was actually considering that now. Perhaps she was getting too friendly. He was a murderer, a criminal, heck he hijacked her opera house. But he was different when she met him in his lair. He was talkative, responsive, human. But now, he seemed cold, distant, as if he wanted nothing to do with her. Perhaps it was because of the performance? Perhaps he wanted to focus on it, assess it, analyze it. Wanted to find every mistake so he could fix it before the next performance. She was getting in the way of his work.

The phantoms eyes were now on her; dark and calculating. Dark and delicious.

For gods sake Jocelyn, get your mind out of the gutter.

"Enjoy the show." She muttered the words, managing a polite smile before turning to leave, closing the door behind her. After making her way through the stairwells and corridors, Jocelyn managed to get to the other side of the auditorium, making her way to her own box. Now seated in box eight, Jocelyn crossed her arms, watching silently. For the first few moments she scanned the audience, wondering if she could recognize anyone. She couldn`t. After a fair bit of effort she found her gaze once again falling on box five.

If someone from the audience looked, they wouldn`t be able to see him. The lights of the box were turned off, casting the whole balcony in shadow. If you squinted a little you could make out a figure seated there, his shoes the only visible bit. She wondered if he was catching glimpses of her too. No, probably not.

It wasn`t until the show was almost over that Jocelyn began paying attention. Finally, the story was starting to consume her, and for once she watched with actual interest. She began noticing things now. The ghost wasn`t kidding about Trentadue and Sylvies skill gap. You`d hear Sylvie sing and you`d be blown away, then Trentadue would pitch in with his lines and your expectations would plummet. He was a good singer no doubt, but in comparison to Sylvie he was a disappointment.

Perhaps she should have the phantom replace him.

Jocelyn chuckled at the idea.

X

It was around 1a.m. when Jocelyn finished adding up her numbers for the night. She was wearing a plain tank top and sweat pants, deciding to get comfortable considering how long her nights here ended up being. For all she knew she`d probably fall asleep any second. But she couldn`t help but wait until tomorrow. She wanted to get a taste for the money she was making, and by the looks of it the show had brought in a good amount of people. If she kept this up, she would have made more money then she spent on this place in a few months. Of course, she would still have to subtract the amount her employees get, not to mention tax, and not to mention… the phantoms salary.

Never mind, it would take a year for her to make more money then she spent on this place.

"Ahem."

Jocelyn wasn`t even startled as she glanced around her chair to where the phantom stood. He was standing in front of her office`s door, somehow fading in without even opening it.

"Do you knock?" she asked rather playfully before catching her tongue, remembering not to get too friendly. He wasn`t her friend, just a business partner. A rather twisted partner, but none the less a partner still.

"Trentadue is preventing the show from reaching perfection." He got straight to the point, crossing his arms, "He must be replaced before the next performance tomorrow. Also, the setting is lacking in scene three, add more foreground. The violinist in the second row played several incorrect notes during act four, replace her or fix her."

Well damn. Isn`t he precise.

"Here`s a thought." Jocelyn straightened up, clasping her hands on her desk before leaning forward, "Why don`t you replace Trentadue? Miss Sylvie tells me you sing… what`s the word? Hypnotically."

He didn`t answer right away, his eyes widening for a brief second. Jocelyn only raised an eyebrow and he quickly glanced away, clearing his throat as he awkwardly took a few steps back.

"What`s wrong? Is it really that bad of an idea?" she asked and he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. "You aren`t shy are you?"

"Miss Kain… I…" he awkwardly ran a gloved hand through his hair. "That`s not too bad of an idea, maybe I will. I wouldn`t mind singing with Miss Sylvie. But… ahem… your…." He looked like he wanted to drop dead.

"What?"

"Nothing." He whispered the word rather harshly, not even looking at her anymore. As if he was purposefully resisting. Confused, Jocelyn glanced down at herself, wondering what the hell was wrong. After a quick glance, she too felt like dropping dead. The top of her tank top was hanging low while she leaned on her desk, leaving more then a fair bit of cleavage on display. Smoothly the girl sat back in her chair, adjusting her shirt before acting as if nothing happened.

Did he just smirk?

"Let`s pretend that never happened." She mumbled and he scoffed.

"You wander into my lair and I almost strangled you." His eyes were completely locked on her now, amused and devilish, "Then we have a little chat and you come seek out my company at the box. You leave, go to your own seat, and then stare at me for half the show." Oh shit he noticed that. "Then here, while I come on business, you choose to tease me with your… _assets_? What is this game you`re playing with me?"

"Well if you put it that way it sounds bad." Jocelyn was partly blushing now, "I mean no disrespect, and I wasn`t teasing… that was an accident. For the staring, you caught me. I can`t help it, you`re a phantom, an actual entity, it`s kind of fascinating. You fascinate me, easy as that."

"I fascinate you?" all amusement disappeared from his voice, something darker replacing it, "Do you find me entertaining? Amusing, hmm? Am I some creature? Some _monster?_ Would you find it amusing if I was locked up in a cage so you could stare all you want with your little fascination?"

The pain in his voice caught the girl my surprise. There was definitely a story there. Definitely a past. He suddenly turned to leave, and something took a hold of Jocelyn. She barely knew the man, but she couldn`t help what she was about to do next. It was simply her nature to care, to consider, to sympathize.

"Wait."

" _What_?"

"At the box… I wanted to tell you something. Be honest, remember?"

He didn`t say a word, but he didn`t leave either, giving her the opportunity to continue.

"I read up on your history, I know about your disfigurement, your arson, your kidnapping, your… crimes." She spoke with surprising calmness, "And I know you probably don`t care but… I want you to know I understand. You spent your whole life locked away in an opera house, hiding because of an appearance you had no control of. You kidnapped a girl for love. You were lonely weren`t you? I`d be lonely too if I was an outcast, if I didn`t have any friends, any family. My heart really goes out to you, you know…. The crimes you committed, why`d you do them?"

"Isn`t it obvious." He was speaking softly now, his expression sad and humble as his heart took in every word she spoke, "The world was cruel to me, I saw no reason to be kind to it…. But that`s none of your business. If you don`t stop snooping into my personal life, I will personally make you regret it."

"You don`t have to do that." Jocelyn only smiled at him, "Let me in. I wanna help you. I know it`s pathetic, but I`m pretty goddamn sympathetic. Mum always told me if I saw someone in trouble, it`s my **duty** to do everything to help them."

"My mum told me to go to hell."

"No wonder you did what you did." She got up from her chair now, casually walking over to him. "I was thinking about this since you tried to strangle me. I wanted to be mad at first, but I really couldn`t. I just kept thinking about all the awful things that must`ve happened. 1870 Paris sounds cruel. It`s not your fault, you weren`t taught right from wrong, you weren`t taught compassion. Allow me to teach you, Mister the Phantom."

"You`re mad woman."

Without thinking, Jocelyn stood on her tippy toes, placing a small, tender kiss on his cold lips. Kiss was an overstatement. It was barely a brush, a tiny, unnoticeable peck. But for Erik it was a wave of overwhelming emotions. What was happening? Why was this woman doing this, acting like she gave a damn? Nobody gave a damn. Nobody cared.

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I fully intend of finishing this story, but if you`re familiar with my work, you know I don`t update regularly. Anyways, I kind of decided to pick up the pace and get into the romance so that we can get into the smut sooner ;3 I hope it didn`t seem too rushed and flowed naturally.

Please review :3


	6. A Relationship in the Works

Jocelyn was feeling especially optimistic as she made her way down the grand staircase, her tablet in hand, the screen opened up to the local news site. There was an article about last nights' show, highlighting the best moments as well as praising the 'young owner's initiative'. At the very end, there was mention of the masquerade ball the opera house would be hosting for the Monte Ace Club. Speaking of which, the decorations for said ball were coming around nicely. Even now, the staff was busily setting up ribbons and banners, even Pierre was on a ladder, attempting to adjust a chandelier.

The party wasn`t due in a week but Jocelyn was simply one of those girls; the type who liked to stay on top of their schedules. Speaking of schedule, there were still three more performances of Carmen to put on before the weeks end, then they`d have to start prepping for a new opera. At the moment none came to mind, not that there were any in mind to begin with. Jocelyn wasn`t very educated on opera`s, she`d simply have to ask Pierre to pick one. It was rather stupid -business wise at least- to put all these decisions in the hand of an employee. But she trusted Pierre, she trusted his expertise, even if certain a phantom doubted them.

On note of the phantom, his case seemed to be going well for the girl. In fact, she didn`t really consider him a problem anymore, just an associate. Maybe a little more actually?

Once again the girl found herself standing across her office, and confidently she opened the door, making her way in before sitting back in her chair. Instantly her feet were stretched on the desk, her tablet still in hand as she began to open up her email.

What a wonderful way to run a business.

"Miss Kain." Jocelyn glanced up from her tablet, half-hoping to see the phantom. Instead she found her gaze returned by none other then Mister Trentadue.

"Hey, what can I do for ya?" quickly the girl pulled her legs down from the desk, scooting her chair closer before clasping her hands rather professionally.

"I received a note today madam." The man has a clear French-accent, one which sounded a little angry at the moment. He moved closer to the desk, setting a folded piece of parchment on the surface before crossing his arms firmly. Sighing, the girl picked it up, her eyes already familiar with the appearance of _his_ letters.

 _Dear Mister Trentadue,_

 _I regret to inform you that your days at the opera house are numbered. A brief comparison of talent would surely reveal you to be at the bottom, and so I recommend you hand in your notice. Soon. Your effort has been appreciated, but when it comes to Opera de Populaire, only the best are qualified._

 _OG_

"So, you want me gone? That`s it huh?" the man put on quite a show, clenching his fist and grabbing the sides of the girls desk, leaning in. "I tell you madam, I have worked at multiple operas before this and never have I had such a displeasure of being called unqualified! I demand an explanation."

"Mousieur…" how was she supposed to explain this? Either she could agree with the letter, and send him off, or disobey the phantom and leave him be. Personally, though, Jocelyn thought the man was decent, but then again she knew she wasn`t an expert in opera matters. Perhaps what she found decent, a critic would find awful. Thinking for merely a moment, Jocelyn decided to trust her newfound friend. This once at least. "I apologize but we want someone with a stronger range to contrast Sylvie. You`re a wonderful… singer? But, just not what we`re looking for. I`ll be sure to give a recommendation letter if you choose to apply somewhere else?"

"I don`t need your petty letter." He snapped, backing away from the desk and shooting her another distasteful look. "I can get on by my on, _thank you very much!"_ With that said the man whirled around, walking to the door before slamming it close behind him.

For a moment, Jocelyn stared after him, wondering if she had made the right decision. Businesses like this were always filled with hard decisions, decisions that would make or break the business. She hoped this case was the former.

"Well done." The unmistakable voice of the phantom rang through her room, and with mixed feelings the girl turned to see him walking up behind her desk. "I was concerned you`d be like some of those previous owners. So scared of change, so scared of quality. "

"Oh, I assure you I`m scared." She replied, managing a weary smile.

"Have you decided what piece we`ll be presenting next, madam?" once again straight to the point.

"Not yet, by now I`m sure you`ve noticed I don`t know too much about operas." she replied.

"Nor I, about businesses." He mirrored her answer.

"Actually, I have a preposition for you." Her tone changed now, as she remembered something she was thinking about yesterday.

"Ironic, I have one for you as well."

"Oh?"

"But I believe it`s ladies first."

"Well aren`t you a gentleman." Jocelyn said it like a joke, but by the looks of his expression he was quite serious about being chivalrous. "I want you to attend the masquerade ball _with_ me."

"Modern women are so forward." He mumbled more to himself than her.

"I think it be a good idea if I present you as my business partner." She continued nonetheless, "If we just make the position official, and all."

"You do recall that I am a _disfigured_ phantom, correct?"

"The disfigured bit really doesn`t matter. The phantom bit on the other hand we can keep to ourselves. What do you say?"

"I say you`re most definitely mad." He sounded a little amused now, "I`ll consider it. But now there is also something I want you to consider." He pulled his cloak away slightly, reaching towards his side before pulling out a thick, leather-bound parchment. "As I`ve mentioned prior, I am a composer. It would please me if you presented my score."

Instinctively, Jocelyn picked up the parchment, noticing the title to be _Heartbreak_. Casually she flipped through it. Now, the girl was no doubt inexperienced when it game to good operas, but by the looks of it, it seemed pretty amazing. The lyrics were laced with distress and emotion, painting a perfect picture of the very thing it was titled: heartbreak.

"I`ll get Pierre to run this." She promised. "But we don`t have any male leads as of now. Unless you wanna volunteer?"

"Just this once." Despite the irritation in his tone, she could see the small smile playing on his lips.

Smiling in return, the girl flipped through the parchment some more. "Did you really compose it?"

"I had a lot of free time after… a _friend_ of mine left me."

"Christine?" Jocelyn practically blurted the name out, and considering how the Phantom winced at the name, she instantly regretted it.

"Yes. Her."

She could practically hear the pain in his voice, and with a sigh she stood up, walking over to him. He turned his head away, not looking at her, trying to mask the ache in his eyes. After a moment of consideration, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, noticing how he instantly went rigid.

"What in gods name are you doing woman?" he sounded rather flustered.

"It`s called a hug, surely you`ve heard of it?"

"I know what a hugis. But why are you hugging me? Get off at once." He didn`t move despite his words.

"You looked like you needed some comforting?" she said rather caringly.

"Mad. Completely and utterly mad."

X

It was a week later that Jocelyn found herself waking up in her office. She had fallen asleep her last night, much to her amusement after talking to the Phantom non-stop. They were growing closer, becoming more like friends. He told her about 1870 Paris, and all the things he had seen during his time hiding in the opera house. She in turn told him about her early, how she had trained at law school yet somehow ended up owning a business. Usually the conversations would make their way back to said business, he was very professional in that way. He`d ask how the stage setting is coming along, and she`d reply with a shrug, saying she was leaving it all to Pierre. He would criticize how much she trusted him, but she`d win him over eventually.

Jocelyn took a moment to humour the notion of bringing a sleeping bag to work, by the looks of it she`d be spending a few more nights in this opera house. With that thought in mind, the girl got up, deciding to head to the café across the street for breakfast.

It was as she made her way down the main staircase that she realized how different the building was looking. Decorations for the masquerade ball hung from the railings, decorating the ceiling and reflecting on the newly-polished floor. There was a table set up in the corner, rows of empty plates lining it. She figured by nightfall they would be filled with different types of treats. As she headed towards the main gate, she noticed Pierre instructing some workers who were attempting to set up a large vase filled with different types of flowers.

"A little more to the left." Pierre ordered just as Jocelyn came to stand beside him.

"I see everything`s coming along nicely?" she asked as he glanced at her.

"I didn`t see you come in Miss Kain, but yes, we`ll be ready by tonight." He replied.

"Are you gonna bring a date, Pierre?"

The mans eyes suddenly lit up as he looked at his boss with some semblance of hope.

"No madam, I don`t have a girlfriend. Why do you ask?" the man mentally prayed that she`d ask him now.

"No reason." She shrugged much to his disappointment.

"Are you bringing a date?"

"I think so." She was smiling now, remembering how _he_ said he`d consider it.

"Very good madam." Pierre faked enthusiasm, deciding to refocus on the work ahead of him. On that note, Jocelyn turned away, strutting out of the building without another word much to his disappointment.

The girl soon found herself in Café de Ross. She wasn`t really sure what that meant, but she really didn`t care much either. The only thing on her mind at that moment was breakfast, and with a few quick placed orders, she was happily seated at a table, cheese panini in hand. Naturally, the girl was thinking as she ate. Her outfit for the ball was still in the works, the only thing she had left to do was pick out a mask to match the white dress her mother had sent her. They were talking on the phone last week, and as soon as Jocelyn mentioned a ball, her mother had already packaged the dress.

The thought of how loving her parents were brought a smile to her face. A small part of her wondered if her mother would be proud of her now. Proud of the fact that she was helping a troubled soul find a home. Hopefully, yes.

She also remembered how her mother had talked about coming to visit, no date was set, but Jocelyn began thinking about it anyways. Her mother had never seen an opera as far as she knew, her parents didn`t exactly live very lavish lives. Hopefully Jocelyn could change that if they did come.

Finishing her breakfast, Jocelyn picked up the remainder of her coffee, heading out into the street with it in hand. It took a lot of searching for her to finally find a store that carried masks, and even more searching to find one she liked. Finally, she came to a stop at a small party-themed vendor, lifting up an elegant, lacy, white mask that would only cover her eyes. There was a white feather hanging from one end, making it almost seem angelic in nature. Deciding this would be the one, Jocelyn scooped it up, heading over to the cashier before noting the time. She`d have to get home fast if she wanted to be ready in time.

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Thoughts? Please review~

Also, I promise the next chapter will be more exciting, and far more... 'heated' ;3


	7. A Masquerade

Jocelyn wasn`t the type to get nervous, being the ambitious person she was, nerves often took a backseat. In a way she`d like to think she`d calmly bull-shit most of her life, acting bigger than she really was. So, the fact that she felt a little stressed as she exited her car, only made her more stressed. Which in turn made her even more stressed, and only more and more until… well, you get the idea.

Forcing a deep breath, Jocelyn shoved her keys into her handbag, closing the door before turning to the opera house before her. It was a cold outside, but what did you expect considering it was Christmas night after all. There wasn`t any snow yet, but Jocelyn did recall the weather man mentioning a light fall later on. She personally didn`t care for the traditional, white Christmas. She wasn`t a Christian in truth, the only reason she ever became accustomed to celebrating the holiday was simply because her hometown would. A person can`t help but fall into the social norms presented to them.

With that rather bleak thought in mind, Jocelyn began to contemplate what she should do. Should she walk around and enter through the front gate? By the looks of it, there were already load of people loading in, limousines and taxi`s rolling by. Wait, limousines? Damn, the girl hadn`t realized how high-class her business just was. There were probably wealthy people getting out of those cars, their outfits out-doing anything she could dream to pull together. A little self-conscious now, Jocelyn glanced at herself.

Nah, she looked fine. She wasn`t going to let such shallow thoughts get the best of her. Taking another deep breath, the girl decided to sneak through the back door.

The staff had really outdone themselves with these decorations. The marble floors were all polished and shining, the chandeliers practically reflecting off of it. The statues also shone, golden candles hanging off of them in a rather elegant way. The main stairs were decorated with red and green lights, and a largely excessive wreath laid on either railing. There was a tree as well, Jocelyn had noticed it when they had brought it in, but now with all the ornaments on it, it looked better than she could`ve imagined. After appreciating how wonderful it all looked, Jocelyn decided to do what any smart guest would.

Find the food.

As expected, there was a fair crowd around the many tables lined with appetizers and punch. Jocelyn was about to wait in the forming line, when a man with a platter came before her, smiling as he lowered the tray towards her. To the girl`s amusement, she picked up an appetizer off the plate, wondering where the footmen idea came from. In a way, it felt as if she was being transported back in time. Everything just seemed so regal, so classy, so magical.

The staff would definitely be getting a raise.

"Do you know why it`s called a masquerade?"

Taken by surprise, Jocelyn turned around to see a dark-haired man standing behind her. He was dressed from head to toe in a fitting, regal red and gold suit. It looked as if it was from another age too, the cape hanging low behind it, a black belt with what seemed like a sword connected to it, and dark polished boots reaching his knees. Rather fitting for a masquerade party really. Perhaps what was more fitting was the mask he wore over the top portion of his face. It was pale white with darker emphasis to highlight his cheekbones, the area around his eyes were completely black, though, making them seem far more intense.

"Huh?" was Jocelyn`s very intelligent response.

"It`s called a masquerade, my dear lady because you`re supposed to adorn a mask." He replied rather smoothly.

Realizing he was quite correct, Jocelyn touched her own face to notice the absence of her mask. Quickly, she dug into her handbag, pulling out the white mask she had purchased earlier before tying it around her eyes.

"Taadaa?" she managed to say, and the man responded with an amused smirk.

"You did well." He began to speak again, turning towards the party before him. Guests were gossiping and roaming around, while Pierre led a group of musicians through a few classical pieces. "Of course it`s nothing compared to 1870, but, for a modern girl, it`s acceptable. Well done Mademoiselle Kain."

"Thanks… I guess." She was a little more comfortable with the man now, realizing who he was, "I must say you did well too. I`m glad you showed up. I did have my doubts. So well done to you too, Mister the Phantom."

Jocelyn felt a little flustered under his gaze at that moment, there was just something about the way he was looking at her right then. Something intense. Something tragic. Just, something she hadn`t noticed before. In a strange way, she felt herself being drawn to that look in his eyes, as if she could stare for eons and never get bored. It was hypnotic in a way, that intensity. Slowly but surely the world around her was beginning to disappear, the only thing tangible being the man in front of her.

"Mademoiselle Kain!"

A pat on her back broke the trance, and soon Jocelyn found herself looking to see Joseph Monte beside her. He wore a large, bird-like mask, but there was no way of mistaking him for someone else.

"Incredible job!" he sounded as excited as he looked, "When I asked you to host the party, I never expected something so grand. Well done, very, very well done!"

"I couldn`t agree more." Pierre was now by Jocelyn`s side as well, golden mask in hand as he stood there dressed in a bright, white suit. The businesswoman inside Jocelyn quickly glanced aside to see how the musicians were doing without Pierre, and by the looks of it, they were doing fine. Satisfied, Jocelyn now turned her attention to her friend.

"It`s Pierre you should be thanking," Jocelyn told Mister Monte, pressing an accusing finger into Pierre`s chest.

"I don`t know what you`re talking about Madam." Pierre joked before Mister Monte patted him heavily on the back.

"Well done my boy!" he congratulated him, before turning back to the party, "I best head off now, can`t keep the misses waiting too long. But we should speak after this Miss. Kain. I`d like to make the Monte Ace Club a permanent patron to your opera house."

"That man`s stronger than he looks." Pierre muttered, reaching around to rub his back as the older man left, earning a half-hearted chuckle from Jocelyn. Now, he turned to take a proper look at her. His boss looked rather beautiful, she always looked beautiful, but this was just a different sort of attractive. Perhaps it was because he had never seen her in a dress before, not one as extravagant as the white gown she was dawning now. Its authenticity was something to admire. He was about to compliment her when he saw her turn her head to whisper something to the man beside her.

Pierre had noticed him standing with Jocelyn earlier, but he presumed he was just a guest trying to suck up. Apparently not. For only a second, the musician felt a bit of concern. Was he that 'date' Jocelyn was talking about?

"Aren`t you going to introduce me to your friend, mademoiselle?" Pierre tried to sound as friendly as humanly possible.

"My _friend_ has yet to introduce himself to me." She replied, now raising an eyebrow at the man in question.

"Erik." the man smiled grimly, sounding a little disappointed as he spoke his name.

"He wrote that opera I left you with earlier." Jocelyn noted, "He`s also going to be playing the lead alto."

Pierre did his best to hide his distaste. It seemed this Erik would be playing a bigger role then Pierre would have liked.

"Surely he must audition, just like everyone else." Pierre managed to say.

"I have no objection to that," Erik replied rather ominously.

Pierre opened his mouth to say more when Jocelyn cut in; "Could you get the guys to play something more dance-worthy? I`ve yet to _frolic_ around in this thing." She gave her dress a little shake.

"Of course… madam." The man in question turned away, heading back to his musicians rather bitterly. He should have known he had aimed too high, Jocelyn was clearly out of his reach. What did he expect, he was going after his boss after all? Relationships like that were always difficult. But then again, Pierre hadn`t gotten to where he was by being a quitter.

"Dance with me?" Jocelyn turned to her phantom, or should she call him Erik now? For a moment the girl thought about it, deciding that she just liked phantom a bit better. It simply suited him. Before said phantom could reject her dance proposal, she took him by the hand, dragging him onto the main floor before placing both hands around his neck.

"I have a theory." He said more to himself than her, as she began to lead the dance.

"Do tell." Was Jocelyn`s reply as he moved one of her hands away from his neck, instead placing it on his forearm as he held her waist.

"Well firstly, you don`t know how to properly dance." He replied, "And secondly, you`re a slut."

Jocelyn had to restrain herself from falling over.

"And why`s that?" she managed to ask between giggles.

"Being so forward, moving so fast." He, unlike her, was very serious as he spoke, "Flaunting your _assets_ , requesting me to dance with you. Women like that only have one thing in mind."

"In 1870, perhaps." She scoffed, "But times have changed. Here, now, it means I like you."

"Impossible. There must be some other, hidden motive." He continued, twirling her around perfectly in sync with the music. "How can you _like_ me. How can anyone? I`ve been fooled once before, I won`t be fooled again. Angels don`t fall in love with monsters."

"Oh, I`m far from an angel," Jocelyn replied, surprised how easily she was following his movements. He had something about him, something that made him an undeniable leader, and her a helpless follower.

"I`m beginning to suspect so." The phantoms frown only deepened, "It is the man that should court the woman, the man that shows his affection. Send her roses, put on grand shows to impress her, fight for every moment of her time. They`d share a kiss or two, yes, but nothing more until he proposed. Then they`d have a little wedding, no more than a priest and the two of them, rings exchanged and vows promised." He suddenly pulled her a little closer to avoid a passing couple, and Jocelyn now began to realize why dancing with him was so easy. In truth, she wasn`t following him at all. She wasn`t in control of her movements; he was. It felt as if she couldn`t move her legs, but instead, he moved them for her. He was completely in control. Firmly, he moved one hand to her face, lifting her chin up and forcing her to look at him. His eyes were on fire.

"Then." He continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "He`d take her home. He`d declare her the mistress of his kingdom. Then that night, and not a single night before it, he would finalize their marriage. He`d leave his mark, strain her voice with his name, and his name alone."

She blinked at him, almost missing the way his lips curled up for only a second.

"Seduction is sweetest when served slowly." He whispered, before giving her one final twirl just as the music came to a dramatic end.

"And that," his voice returned to its normal grim tone, "Is something your generation lacks immensely."

Jocelyn just stared at him, what in the world was she doing?

Her legs practically felt like jelly as she watched the dark angel before her, every movement of his so elegant, so purposeful. She felt like a frog compared to the charm he carried himself with. The charm that had her craving him so desperately. What would her mother think now? The idea was to help him, to show him he had a friend in her. But now her mind was dirtying itself with all these scandalous thoughts. She was practically stripping him with her eyes, wondering what it felt to have those hands on her bare hips. What would it feel like to give him complete control? Oh, and that voice! Jocelyn could practically hear him growling against her neck, whispering all sorts of dark promises into her ear.

Quickly, the girl thought of the strangest things to stop this sensation. Nun`s, war, puppies, accidents, babies. Just anything anti-sex, anything to turn her off.

"Miss Kain?" he spoke so collectedly, but Jocelyn could see it. She could see the amusement in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"You keep calling me forward, though I fear I`m not being honest." Jocelyn breathed out the words, "You fascinate me. I find you very interesting, and very attractive. I like to flirt, obviously you know that, but I`m no expert in love. I`ll say I like you, but that only means I`m attracted to you. It doesn`t mean I`m madly in love. Usually, here that`s enough to start things off. So, tell me, Mister the Phantom, do you like me?"

"You`re an attractive woman." Was his rather blunt response.

"Well, now that that`s settled. What are we going to do?"

He seemed to be contemplating, his eyes leaving her only for a moment before he sighed, stretching his hand out to her. She took it carefully and soon found herself being led away from the partying and towards the grand staircase. He smoothly took her down the halls, maneuvering the opera house far better than she could have ever dreamed too. He glanced at her once more before pushing against the double doors before him, opening up what seemed to be the dressing room in which the mirror lay.

"This isn`t right." He sounded a little angry as he said those words, turning to her immediately once he closed the doors. In a matter of seconds, Jocelyn found his hands on her face, pulling her lips up to his in a demanding but passionate kiss. "But it is dishonest if I said I wasn`t starving for that which was denied to me." He mumbled between the kiss, not giving her a chance to reply as he hungrily kissed her. Jocelyn could barely keep up with the way he was exploring her mouth, forcing it open as his tongue slipped in. It was a breathless and messy kiss, one which Jocelyn had never experienced.

Soon the girl found herself moaning into it, shuddering once his hand slipped between the lace that bound the back of her dress. His gloved fingers felt cold against her skin, slowly lowering the fabric until it laid bunched around her hips. His fingers softly danced against her naked sides, mumbling an approval before turning his eyes to her rather plain bra. He watched her squirm under his gaze for a moment, turning his attention back to her eyes before moving his hand to hold her head in place. Her lips were puffy and red from all the abuse he had inflicted upon them, her skin flushed as she looked at him with big, anxious eyes. Erik always considered himself a good judge of character, capable of unraveling a person with once look at them. And the look on Jocelyn's face at that moment was impossible to miss. Behind all that lust, behind all that desire and passion, was fear. Not only fear, but confusion, confliction, and a notable bit of inexperience.

She talked the good talk, acting much higher than she was, and it was at that moment he realized it. His little minx was acting on instinct alone. She wasn`t the slut he had mistaken her for. In fact, Erik was more than certain that she had never done anything like this before. Perhaps she had shared a kiss or two, but nothing as intense as this. She was just a curious little lamb. Oh, how ironic. A part of him was secretly hoping she`d be exactly what she acted like, a confident, fast-paced, seductress. But no, once again he was being fooled.

Sighing he leaned in and kissed her, this time a little more softly,

"Good night Miss. Kain." He grounded the words out, looking particularly mopey as he moved away from her. Jocelyn was no doubt surprised as he took his leave, slamming the door close behind him.

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I may be moving too fast, but I feel lust works faster than love does. And that was most definitely lust and not love.

If you guys have some free time and need more Phantom in your life, it be cool if you`d check out my other Phantom fic. (Personally, way more proud of it than I am of this.)


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